


How Far Do You Bend?

by nekonexus



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Non Consensual, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-04
Updated: 2005-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekonexus/pseuds/nekonexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Chin Iisou had been that much smarter? What if Hakkai had been that much less stable? How very differently would their first encounter have gone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An alternative version of the events in "Misty" and "Wandering Destiny" (vol.4, ch. 19 & 20) or, if you prefer, episode 11 of Gensoumaden Saiyuki.
> 
>  **Warnings:** AU. Dark, very dark. Perverts and centipedes. Twisted mindgames featuring a Chin Yisou more sadistic than the manga version. Angst, pain, mind breaking. Major character death and insanity. Did I mention dark? ^_^; Read at your own risk.

Goku's yelp of shock and pain echoed up into the fog and fell flat against the trees on the crest of the cliff. Hakuryuu huddled on a tree branch, hidden within a thick spray of leaves, until he was certain the fortuneteller was gone. His wings felt damp and heavy with the fog, but he shook them out. Launching himself from the tree, he soared out over the canyon, searching for Goku.

A flash of colour broke the monotony of the brown cliff face. He drifted down towards it, picking up Goku's familiar scent -- and the smell of blood -- as the wind shifted.

"Crapity crapity crap," Goku muttered. "I got away but beat myself up." Sighing, he stared down at his leg. "That punk! I wonder what happened with him and Hakkai. Why's he messin' with me an' Gojyo? Maybe he wants somethin'..."

"Kyu! Kyu!" Hakuryuu cried, settling onto a rock beside Goku.

Goku's face lit up. "Hakuryuu! What the heck? Did you follow me all the way down here?"

Hakuryuu bobbed his head in an exaggerated nod. A soft squeak escaped him as Goku scooped him up and clutched him against his chest.

"You rock!" Goku exclaimed. "No matter how hungry I get I'll never eat you!"

Squirming free, Hakuryuu grabbed hold of Goku's cape with his teeth and tugged impatiently.

"Nnn?" Goku blinked at him. "Yeah, I know. I look pretty lame just waitin' for help. I'd better get climbin'."

"Kyuuu..." Hakuryuu said, flying a few feet above him.

Twisting and grasping the cliff face, Goku hauled himself slowly to his feet. All the colour drained out of his face as he attempted to put his weight on his left leg. Fresh blood soaked his jeans. Clenching his teeth, he reached above his head for handholds and tried to keep his weight on his right leg as he pulled himself up.

He made it barely half his height up the cliff before he was forced to slide back down to the ledge. "OW! Stupid crap!" he complained, pressing a hand to his stomach. "I'm hungry, too."

"Kyu?" Hakuryuu said, catching his cape in one claw.

"Aww... it's no good," Goku said, scowling at his leg. "I need my legs to climb. And my insides hurt. You have to go find the others, Hakuryuu. You can do that right?" He peered up at the dragon hopefully.

Hakuryuu bobbed his head, then reached out to tug at Goku's hair.

"Find Hakkai... 'n Sanzo. He's gonna hit me for being so stupid, fallin' down here an' all, but I need their help. Can you bring them here, Hakuryuu?"

"Kyu!"

Goku slumped back against the cliff, waving encouragement as he flew off.

~*~*~

Sha Gojyo had never been the praying kind -- after all, the gods save no one -- but if he had been, he'd have been doing a whole lot of it in the silence that followed the shikigami-Goku falling apart. Not for himself, no. Chin Iisou had lost interest in him, and maybe that was a good thing, except that what he was interested in was Hakkai, and Hakkai...

Gojyo risked a sideways glance at his best friend. The look on his face was something like blank horror -- total disbelief, shock... and fear. Noticing Gojyo's glance, Hakkai turned away, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

Hakkai was always the first to admit that he wasn't quite sane.

 _Shit._ "Drag your sorry ass out here, Chin Iisou," Gojyo drawled around his cigarette. It was more work than it should have been to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Sanzo-sama's pissed and wants a talky."

"That was very well done," Iisou said, appearing suddenly on a rock a few feet in front of them. "I've underestimated you." Admiration coloured his voice momentarily. Ignoring Gojyo and Sanzo, he fixed his attention on Hakkai. "Always a pleasure," Iisou said quietly.

It was a stupid thing to say, and the weird tone of his voice made Gojyo's skin crawl. Hakkai's features darkened, and it wouldn't have taken a mind-reader to figure out he was completely pissed off. Even so... there was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that said _fear_ far louder than Gojyo wanted to hear.

"That doll was a fine one. A shame really," Iisou lamented. "How did you ever figure it out?"

"Didn't do your homework properly," Gojyo replied, hoping the bitter humour would distract Hakkai.

"Goku's first words are always, 'I'm hungry,'" Sanzo said, stepping in front of them. He kept his gun out, angled low as if he'd take the fortuneteller out by the knees first.

Removing the mahjongg counters from his mouth for a moment, Iisou rested his cheek against one palm. "Ah. Tricky, tricky," he sighed.

Gojyo had the sudden feeling that the slip had been on purpose. Just like with the damn seed, Iisou had _wanted_ Sanzo to shoot the shikigami. Had wanted Hakkai to witness it, helpless to stop it.

The bastard was playing a really dirty game.

"Goku. Where is he?" Sanzo demanded. "The next shot won't miss."

"Ah," Iisou murmured. "Well, what do you think? Is he wandering around in the fog, perhaps? Or residing in the belly of a bear instead?"

It was a sign of just how badly Sanzo was rattled, Gojyo figured, that he actually fired at Iisou. The fortuneteller dodged easily, leaping off the rock to stand a few feet away.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo," Iisou laughed. "Short-tempered are we?" The snap of his fingers was loud in the silence following the gunshots. "Perhaps you're not eating a balanced diet?"

The ground moved, swarmed, rippled like waves in a sea of red.

"What the hell?!" Gojyo exclaimed. "Centipedes?!" The ground was covered with them. Backing up a step didn't stop them from climbing his legs. They crunched underfoot, slithered over his boots, covered his legs in a seething mass of feet and antennae.

"Tch! Where the hell are they coming from?" Sanzo growled, raising his arms as the centipedes swarmed his robes.

"Hyakugan Maoh was a centipede youkai," Iisou said, hiding his hands in his sleeves. "Centipedes capture insects with the venom in their jaws, yes? You'd best hurry to escape. I'm afraid so many bites may jeopardize your lives."

Keeping completely still was not a problem for Gojyo, despite his usual lazy fidgeting. He could stay in place for hours, never moving a muscle. He'd seen Sanzo do the same, watching the rain, brooding, meditating. Hakkai, of course, could outdo either of them, but under conditions like this? The tickling, stinging, crawling was enough to drive a sane man 'round the bend.

Hakkai slumped over silently, like he was willing to let the centipedes cover him completely. Or too tired to hold up. Iisou stepped forward, centipedes crunching underfoot. It took every last ounce of willpower Gojyo had to keep from struggling to reach Hakkai.

Grabbing Hakkai's chin and forcing him to look up, Iisou studied him silently for a moment. "Such pretty eyes," he murmured, so quietly that Gojyo had to strain to hear. "Such a pity. Would you really have taken this one as well?" he asked, tracing Hakkai's left eyebrow with one long nail. "And after that? What then, Cho Gonou? Would you have ripped off your own ears, one at a time? Ah, but no. I do not think so." His fingers traced the curve of Hakkai's left ear, sliding lightly over his limiters. "Because that would have meant losing these, hmm?"

Hakkai didn't answer, only stared blankly, as if mesmerized by Iisou's eyes.

"Do you remember who gave them to you, hmm?"

"Hakkai!" Gojyo exclaimed, unable to stay silent any longer. Iisou was posioning his mind, twisting the truth.

"Well. Look very carefully," Iisou said, leaning far too close. His face a scant inch from Hakkai's.

Gojyo ground his teeth and held still. It didn't matter what Iisou said. It couldn't matter. If only Hakkai could remember and _not listen_....

"This is the son of the centipede youkai who raped and impregnated your precious sister."

Gojyo's heart sank even as a grim, fiery rage swept over him. Iisou's words finally seemed to reach Hakkai and he lunged forward suddenly, aiming a strike towards Iisou's face. Centipedes scattered around him. The fortuneteller deflected the blow easily, driving an elbow into Hakkai's stomach before twisting and forcing him to the ground.

"Hakkai!" Gojyo yelled. "Leave him alone!"

Iisou pushed Hakkai's head sideways, pressing his cheek against the dirt. "Ah, there we are," he said happily. "Your face is changing nicely."

There was a near-blind rage in Hakkai's eye. Even Gojyo could see that. And yet he chose not to struggle. Waiting for another opportunity to strike? Or caught by the youkai's poison.

 _Get up,_ he urged silently. _Get up and_ fight _, dammit._

"I don't know if you plan to atone for those innocent lives you stole," Iisou said, his tone turning dark. "It's not really that I hate your gallant hypocrisy, you know. But rather..." He paused, licking his lips. There was a look that could only be called lust in his eyes. It turned Gojyo's stomach and he had to glance away. A sound that might have been a laugh filled the air before Iisou continued, "It's your foolishness and murderous intent... that will fill my heart as I wish."

"Shut the hell up," Sanzo said. "Your ranting is painful."

A look of petulant annoyance crossed Iisou's face as he turned to face Sanzo.

"Of the three things I hate most in this world, you've already managed two," Sanzo continued, ignoring the centipede crawling up into his hair.

"Oh? And what are those?" Iisou asked.

The Maten sutra unfurled in looping coils around Sanzo, destroying the centipedes as it spread outward. Iisou flinched backwards, raising one arm to shield his eyes.

"Perverts and insects."

The second the centipedes were gone, Gojyo's shakujou was in his hands, crescent blade deadly silent as it snaked out toward Iisou. He expected the fortuneteller to at least try to dodge, but the sutra had stunned him. The blade sliced through Iisou's shoulder with none of the shuddering impact it should have had at hitting bone. Gojyo frowned a little, watching Iisou's arm fall to the ground.

He wasn't bleeding.

"Hunh. Lookit that," Gojyo said. "It's been a while since I sliced something up. It feels so good to unwind." Bloodlust sang in his veins -- the need to repay damage to his friends, and himself, with damage. "I've been such a _good_ boy lately," he added. Only an idiot could miss the unspoken threat.

Iisou stayed silent, crouched on the ground with his remaining hand clamped tight over what should have been exposed bone in his shoulder. His eyes narrowed, by there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"...Hey," Sanzo said, sounding more worried than he usually allowed himself to. "You all right, Hakkai?"

He didn't get an answer.

Backing away from Iisou, Gojyo stepped over to Hakkai and Sanzo. Hakkai had gotten to his knees but seemed stuck there, staring at the ground. Not like he was looking for answers there. More like he expected it to jump up and slap him.

"Hakkai?" Gojyo said, going down on one knee beside him. "Tch," he muttered. Grasping Hakkai by the shoulders, he shook him none too gently. "Oi! Snap out of it, dimwit!"

Hakkai's blank gaze snapped up and locked on his face, but the haunted, lost look didn't change.

"Listen to me!" Gojyo exclaimed impatiently. "You're _Cho Hakkai_ , got it?"

Something in Hakkai's eyes finally shifted, and he raised one hand to press over his eye. His good eye. Gojyo nearly swore in desperate frustration.

"I-I'm all right," Hakkai stuttered. "I'm s- sorr--"

Sharp claws dug into Gojyo's forehead, slicing through his headband. "Wha-!" he exclaimed. _Shit._ He'd forgotten about Iisou. The fortuneteller had a grip like iron, hauling him backwards and halfway to his feet. Hakkai watched, helpless and open-mouthed in shock.

"Gojyo!"

Something white flashed into view, and there was a strange _smack_ sound as a wing slapped across Iisou's face. He lost his grip on Gojyo and the redhead scrambled out of the way.

Hakkai lurched to his feet. "Hakuryuu!"

"Hmph!" Iisou grunted, batting the small white dragon aside impatiently.

Hakuryuu abandoned his attack, turning his attention to Hakkai instead. With an anxious cry, he clutched at Hakkai's sash, trying to tug him away from Iisou. Hakkai reached out, attempting to take the dragon in his arms as he often did, but Hakuryuu remained just out of reach, darting away impatiently and waiting for Hakkai to follow.

Sanzo and Gojyo searched the area with their eyes and came to the same conclusion. Goku was still missing. Sanzo's expression turned grim, and he reached for his gun again.

~*~*~

Hakuryuu's return wasn't a surprise. His return without Goku was more than one. From the way he was carrying on, though, tugging at Hakkai like he was trying to lead him somewhere, it was fairly obvious that he'd found Goku at least. So what was keeping the idiot monkey? A cold chill shivered through Sanzo, and he scowled. What was wrong with Goku, that he'd been unable to return with Hakuryuu?

If Hakkai really did lose it, the way Iisou seemed to want, it was going to take more than a few bullets to stop him. Sanzo seriously doubted Gojyo would be willing and able to do whatever it would take. So where the hell was Goku when he needed him?

"I've been thinking, you know," Iisou said, startling all of them. "I wonder just _what_ will make Cho Gonou happy."

Hakkai tensed, ignoring Hakuryuu as the dragon settled on his shoulder.

"It's quite simple, yes?" Iisou continued, smiling at his captive audience. Raising his hand, he held up his index finger. "Tormenting his friends is the most efficient path." There were mahjongg counters in his hand again, suddenly, poised to throw. "The young man with red hair... and the absent little golden eyes. We've already had our fun. So my next dear playmate..."

The air didn't quite whistle with the sound of the mahjongg counters -- it hissed until it was broken by a shriek of pain.

Not from Sanzo. The counters had not been aimed at him.

From Hakuryuu.

Scarlet blossomed against white as the dragon fell from Hakkai's shoulder, struggling weakly to beat wings that were sliced and torn.

"The beloved pet, perhaps, hmm?" Iisou said, smiling broadly as Hakkai fell to his knees beside Hakuryuu.

Sanzo swore and fired three rounds in Iisou's direction, but the fortuneteller dodged easily, laughing as he disappeared into the trees. "Stay here!" Sanzo ordered as Gojyo summoned his weapon and made as if to follow Iisou. The last thing they needed to do was separate, provide independent targets again.

With a string of vile obscenities, Gojyo dismissed his weapon and went down on one knee beside Hakkai. His features were pale and strained, and the chi he was pouring into Hakuryuu's body didn't seem to be having a noticeable effect. The dragon looked distinctly limp and grey.

"Hakkai..." Gojyo whispered.

The glow of chi fizzled out, like the last guttering of a candle, and Hakkai slumped sideways. Gojyo wrapped one arm around him, holding him up, as he reached out his other hand to Hakuryuu.

But now they could both see what Hakkai's hands had been obscuring: one of the counters had pierced the dragon's heart.

"He's..." Gojyo began. "No...." There were tears streaming down his face, unnoticed. His grip on Hakkai tightened possessively.

Sanzo said nothing. What could he possibly say? A damp, clinging chill gripped him, like a fog become sentient. Iisou's mad giggling carried on the faint breeze, mocking them all. He'd never expected, never anticipated, that the fortuneteller would guess Hakkai's truest weak point. The one thing he had, the one attachment he allowed himself. Why hadn't Hakkai sent the dragon away, into the trees for safety? Or better yet, why hadn't Hakuryuu remained as Je --

Hakkai threw back his head suddenly and uttered a sound that was never meant to come from a human throat -- a primal scream of soul-ripping pain. Gojyo fell backwards as Hakkai shoved him away and staggered to his feet.

There was nothing sane in his eyes as they swept over Sanzo, searching for Iisou.

"Hakkai!"

Ignored.

"Hakkai...." Gojyo, pleading.

Ignored.

Sanzo set his lips in a thin, grim line, keeping his gun trained on Hakkai.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Gojyo demanded, lurching to his feet. He tried to put himself between Sanzo and Hakkai, but Sanzo kept moving, circling around both of them.

The pale glow of chi gathered between Hakkai's hands. His expression was utterly still and blank; far more terrifying than any of his deadly false smiles.

"Oh, ho, ho! Chose the wrong one, did I? Should have left the pet for last, it seems, hmm, Cho Gonou?"

Hakkai twisted in place, following the fortuneteller's voice, and let loose a chi blast that singed Gojyo's hair and scorched the bark of a tree.

"Shit! Hakkai!" Gojyo exclaimed, diving sideways.

"Behind you!" Sanzo yelled suddenly, but it was too late. Iisou had Gojyo by the neck, using him as a shield. It was all going so horribly, horribly wrong and he didn't dare trust Hakkai to regain his senses. He couldn't keep his gun trained on both of them. He couldn't see enough of Iisou to risk a head shot, but Hakkai didn't even seem to be registering Gojyo's presence as the chi ball formed between his hands again.

"Will you kill him, Cho Gonou?" Iisou taunted, licking his lips. "Will you kill them all? Leave yourself with nothing... _as you left me._ "

"Hak... kai," Gojyo gasped, trying to drive an elbow back into Iisou's body. It had no noticeable effect.

"I have nothing!" Hakkai screamed, words ripped from the depths of his soul. His chi blast lanced toward them.

Sanzo fired, one shot, straight into Hakkai's shoulder. With a grunt of disbelief, Hakkai fell to one knee, bracing himself with a palm flat against the ground. Gojyo crumpled, collapsing backwards into the space Iisou had been occupying. The hole in his chest steamed faintly around the edges.

Circling warily around beside Hakkai, Sanzo kept his distance but moved to where he could get a better look at Gojyo. Iisou had disappeared, leaving them in an eerie silence.

Gojyo was dead.

He only had one bullet left. He didn't dare stop to reload.

Hakkai raised his head, and there was some semblance of himself in his eyes... until they fell on Gojyo and he recognized what he'd done. If the sound he had made before had been the scream of a soul ripping, this was the sound of a soul _breaking_ , the last vestiges of humanity shattering into a million pieces. It was a sound that shivered through your bones, vibrated through the blood in your veins.

Clenching his teeth, Sanzo waited, gun angled slightly, unconsciously, toward the ground.

"It is raining," Hakkai whispered. That smile that wasn't a smile at all played on his lips.

"Hakkai--" Sanzo began, urgently.

Too late. Mahjongg counters rained down around him, aimed not at him, but at Hakkai. He couldn't turn to confront Iisou without losing sight of Hakkai. Didn't dare have his back to either of them.

"Come," Iisou said, no laughter at all in his voice now. "Let's lose everything."

Hakkai howled like a wounded beast as he launched himself toward Sanzo -- toward _Iisou_ , who was still behind him.

"Hakkai!" Sanzo screamed.

Familiar fingers, warm and long, closed around his throat. He fell backwards, Hakkai bearing down on top of him, and hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Stubbornly, he clutched his gun tighter, finger clenching over the trigger. It was a struggle to pull the hammer back when all his misguided instincts were screaming at him to tear Hakkai's hands away. How the hell was he still so strong with a fucking hole in his shoulder? Was he not feeling the pain?

Only one shot. It had to count. The hammer locked back into place and he raised his hand quickly, thrusting the gun toward Hakkai's head as his vision went grey around the edges.

Air rushed into his lungs suddenly as Hakkai loosed his grip, twisted with impossible speed and agility, and wrapped his fingers around Sanzo's wrist. The gun leaped toward him, and he found himself staring down the barrel. Hakkai's hand tightened, nails digging into Sanzo's wrist.

His finger spasmed.

The world exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings for chapter two: non-con sex, or rape, if you prefer. Het and m/m. Minor character death. And the desperate surreality of a broken mind. This chapter made my beta curl up under a blanket on the couch. Consider yourself warned.

Goku woke from a sleep he hadn't meant to fall into with the feeling that something was very very _wrong_. Rubbing his eyes, he got to his feet. He always healed quickly in his sleep, and his leg, although still sore, was strong enough to take his weight now, so as soon as he got himself oriented, he began to climb.

It was a long way up, but he covered the distance quickly, spurred on by an ever-increasing sense of urgency. There was somewhere he needed to be _now._ Why hadn't Hakuryuu returned? Where were the others?

 _The others..._

Reaching the top of the cliff, he sprawled ungracefully onto the flat ground, shaken by a sudden spike of burnt-copper fear taste. Something -- someone? -- screamed, in the near distance, and the sound drove him to his feet again.

 _Sanzo... Sanzo!_ He chanted the name like a mantra as he sprinted toward the sound.

Adrenaline burnt through his veins like lightning, driving him faster, faster, as panic and senseless fear dogged his heels. And then in the space between one stride and the next, he felt the crack of a gunshot, saw _fearsweatblooddeath_ , tasted the sound of a soul scream.

He fell, headlong, struggling through a spider's web of senses tangled and blurred. The world dissolved around him and he screamed.

 _SANZO!_

But there was only the smell-taste-touch of blood in his mind where Sanzo's presence should have been. Stumbling to his feet again, Goku staggered into a loping run, following the scent of blood that was too strong on the wind.

 _notdeadcan'tbedeadnotdead... nononono..._

The small clearing is deathly quiet, but not empty.

He sees red on grey-white first. _"Kyu..."_

Red spilled against grey-green earth. _"Hey, stupid monkey. What took you so long?"_

Black, cream, and where there should be blond there is instead shuddering, stabbing crimson that bleeds through his heart. A violent spray of something wet across the ground that he can't bear to look at. _Silence._

His stomach turns inside out, rebelling against the _wrongness_ surrounding him. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and moves, slowly, forward. Falling to his knees beside Sanzo, he gathers the still, limp form in his arms. There is a sound like bones breaking, earth shattering, that shivers along his skin. He hears himself screaming as if from a great distance.

He must... he must....

 _"...must learn to help yourself.... Grow strong and be proud of it."_

His limiter groans, metal creaking and straining.

No, there is one thing he must do first.

Gathering up their bodies, he lays them out side by side. He doesn't think Sanzo would be pissed about that. It just seems right that Hakuryuu should lie on Gojyo's chest, so he places the dragon there gently, hiding the scorched hole. It is all he can do for now. There is no time to bury or cremate them. He can't hold on that long.

Sanzo never taught him the last rites _I don't chant sutras for the dead_ but he heard them a few times at the monastery. Kneeling at their feet, he chants what he can remember for them in a voice dry with pain and bleeding with sorrow.

It is all he can do...

...until he finds whoever did this to them.

~*~*~

There is only darkness when he wakes; deep, comfortable, familiar. As complete within as it is without and he thinks, after a moment, that it was not so much waking as... surfacing. Yes, surfacing. As if he has been submerged within his own awareness, drowning in layers of illusory Self, and has only now reached the bottom, rounded river pebbles beneath his feet, water subsiding. Or parting.

Moses and the Red Sea.

He laughs a little at that, at the thought of himself as God's chosen one, parting a sea of blood -- the Red Sea is not, he knows, but its counterpart in his mind most definitely is -- so that he might lead...

Whom? he wonders.

A frown creases his brow and, for a moment, he is troubled by the echo of screams... and a gunshot.

The soft scent of freshly baked bread drifts to him. The thoughts scatter (Pharoah's soldiers, lost beneath the waves) and he smiles as he opens his eyes. Everything is indistinct, blurred at the edges. He wonders where he put his glasses this time.

Sitting up, he swings his legs out from beneath the covers, lets his feet touch the floor, and wiggles his toes against the polished wood. It is smooth, and cool, and if it is, perhaps, dusty, he pays that detail no mind. His stomach aches and the bread smells are making his mouth water.

He is about to push himself to his feet, attempt to locate his glasses -- and clothes, he thinks absently -- when a small, pale hand extends into his limited range of vision.

"Good morning, Gonou..." a sweet, familiar voice says. There is gentle laughter in the words, chiding him for being a sleepyhead.

He raises his gaze to meet a pair of impossibly bright green eyes. "Kanan," he breathes. A prayer. An invocation. Summoning his goddess.

She smiles, raises one hand to cup his cheek.

Her touch is cool, lifeless. Not the warmth he remembers.

The waves come crashing in.

~*~*~

Falling to his knees, Hakkai screams until no sound will come from his raw and bleeding throat. His hands clench tight in his hair, keeping his head bowed, pulling too hard at his scalp.

He should be dead. God help him, he should be dead, many times over. So why does he live?

Fiery pain blossoms in his shoulder suddenly and his left hand spasms. He lets it fall to his lap, reaches with his other hand to try and locate the wound. The twisting motion spreads the pain in excruciating waves across his back. His vision fades, grey on black, for a moment, an eternity.

He sways a little.

A hand closes over the top of his shoulder, and he whimpers. His eyes fall shut.

"Poor Cho Gonou," someone whispers. Warm breath tickles his ear, his _limiters_ and he can do no more than whimper again.

"Poor, poor Gonou," the voice says.

He recognizes it. Does not want to, does not want to acknowledge it. "Hak-kai," he whispers hoarsely, straining to make the sound heard.

Unseen hands tug him to his feet, push him back until his knees hit the bed and he collapses onto it.

"Oh, ho, ho," someone laughs. "But would you not rather be Gonou? Would that not make it all so much _easier_?"

Fire sweeps over him as he falls backwards. _Fever_ , he thinks, recognizing his own desperation. _Hallucinations._

A thin, sluggish trail of sticky wetness dampens his back as he struggles to roll away from hands wandering down his chest. He forces his eyes open, meets human green where he expected youkai hazel, and he falls.

~*~*~

"Kanan," he whispers, drowning in her eyes. She is all he has left, all he has ever had. The only one who can save him. Or damn him.

"What is it, Gonou?" she asks, her hand cupped against his cheek, eyes wide with worry.

He turns his face, nuzzles her palm, runs his tongue from the heel of her hand to the tip of her middle finger, just to hear her giggle. She does, and the sound goes straight to his groin, reawakening the desire he has never lost, only hidden, buried, for the sake of his sanity.

She should be dead. She is dead. He knows this, heart and mind and soul and body.

Her skin has no scent. The texture is wrong.

 _Shikigami,_ his mind offers slowly, reluctantly. His fingers clamp tight around her wrist and she gasps.

 _...only a doll._

 _but close enough, no? you can have her again, as you have wanted all these years. she is real enough to feel you, and you want her, oh, you want her, don't you, Gonou? she is life, breath, your world..._

 _and now you can have her._

 _...one last time._

 _or forever._

He pulls her close with his other arm, pressing their bodies hard against each other. She tilts her head back, and their lips meet, gentle only for that first brief instant, and then he is insistent, forcing his tongue into her mouth, biting at her lips until she gasps and tries to pull away.

"My love," he hisses, low and dark, more like a curse than a term of endearment. "Why did you leave me?"

"I- I had no choice!" she insists, raising her hand to press it, flat-palmed, against his chest. "You know that, Gonou..."

He shakes his head, catches her heavy braid in one hand, and breaks the cord tying it. Running his fingers roughly through her hair, he lets the heavy dark mass tumble down over her shoulders.

"You could have lived," he says harshly, fingers ripping at the ties of her dress. He releases her wrist long enough to roughly strip her naked. "You could have lived," he says again, panting a little.

Knotting his fingers in her hair, he jerks her head back, presses their lips together and fucks her mouth with his tongue. His erection swells and he grinds against her, hungry and demanding. Breaking their kiss, he tugs her down to the dusty floorboards, pressing her down, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.

"Gonou," she whimpers, "Please, no. Not like this..."

Of course like this. It must be like this. Exactly how they would have done it, in that dungeon, all those years ago. If she hadn't... if he hadn't...

He has no knife now. There is no escape for her this time.

"Why?" he demands, squeezing her breast hard as he forces her legs apart. "Why did you betray me?"

"Wha-- what do you mean?"

"Why. Did you. Die!" he screams, punctuating each phrase with a sharp thrust into her. Her body is dry and dusty. There is no moisture in her. It is almost painful, but he welcomes the ache, the burn. Needs the pain to cleanse him. "Why did you have to _do_ that?" he pants, his rhythm eratic as he buries himself in her. "Why weren't you strong enough to _live_ , dammit! After everything... everything I did... for you!"

"Gonou..." she screams.

He arches his back, forcing himself so far into her that he feels something break within her. His entire body vibrates with the intensity of his ejaculation as he fills her completely. Collapsing on top of her, he rocks his hips slowly, enjoying the feeling of his cock pulsing within her. Surrounded by her. Replacing -- erasing -- the centipede monster's touch.

"I would have raised your baby," he whispers.

She turns her face away.

"I would have done anything," he says, propping himself up on his elbows, so he can stare down at her. At least she is not crying. "But you... you!"

He jerks backwards, pulling out of her quickly and sharply. Sitting back on his heels, he trials his hand down her chest to the pale imitation of a scar on her abdomen. His fingernails dig into it. He is not at all disturbed by the feeling of clay beneath his nails. He has felt far worse things, after all.

She turns her gaze toward him now, wild-eyed. Raising her hands, she clutches feebly at his wrist. "Gonou... no, please, no... you don't know what you're doing..."

He bats her hands away easily. "I hate you," he says, very carefully and precisely. His fingers dig in -- one inch. Two. "Damn you," he whispers. His cheeks are wet. Hers are not. "Damn you to hell!" he screams, plunging his hand into her body.

She bucks beneath him, trying desperately, uselessly, to stop him. His fingers close around the mahjongg tile and he yanks it free. She goes suddenly limp, but her eyes, her eyes are still fixed on his, and there are centuries of sorrow there.

"Gonou," she whispers. "Oh, love... what have you done..."

Clenching his fist tight around the tile, he lurches to his feet as her body disintegrates. Soon she is no more than a pile of dust on the floor, and he is smiling, smiling. He opens his hand, blinking at the tile.

 _Rebirth._

And someone laughs.

"Oh, _well done,_ " someone says. Callused hands slither over his back, around his waist. He is startled into immobility. Dust blows around his feet.

"But you know, Cho Gonou... You realize what you have done, don't you?"

Those hands slide down to his hips, caress the flat and curve where leg joins torso. He whimpers, tossing his head back.

"I saved her, you see?" A long, pointed tongue slides along the length of his spine, up into his hair. "When she lay there, dying, and you were gone... I knew you would want to save her, somehow... So I placed the tile in her body."

 _No..._

 _oh, yes..._

"That was her soul, her spirit, which you just destroyed. She did not die by her own hand -- she died by yours."

Laughter, and hands touching him, touching the tile he clings to, the remains of _her_ , and it cracks. He will drown in the waves again, submerged in the depths of his own wasted soul.

Hell would be too good for him, now.

~*~*~

"Shh... Gonou..."

A cool, damp cloth presses against his forehead, over his closed eyes, and he sighs, grimacing at the soreness in his throat. It would take too much effort to speak, so he stays silent, smiling a little.

 _Kanan,_ he thinks.

Gentle hands brush back his hair, touch his cheek, and this time he welcomes the coolness. It is soothing against his fevered skin. He turns his head, leaning into the touch, and sighs again.

A breathy whisper tickles his ear. "Roll over, Gonou."

It is difficult to comply. His body feels heavy, limp, listless. Unresponsive. Hands tug impatiently at his shoulder and hip and he wonders vaguely when she acquired such strange calluses. She pushes him over, from his side onto his stomach, and he turns his head sideways, resting his left cheek against the mattress.

His shoulder throbs, pain pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and he rides the waves with difficulty, losing awareness of his surroundings. The world dims to grey, streaked with red. Nothing exists but pulse and throb and the struggle to breathe.

When the pain subsides, he feels hands caressing the small of his back, his buttocks, and he whimpers for an entirely different reason.

 _Gojyo,_ he thinks, smiling into the sheet. He knows he is in no shape for this. No shape to resist. He has no strength, no will to fight. His body is pliant, supple, and if not for the pain that is a dull background to every thought, every breath, he would be completely relaxed.

"Gonou..."

The whisper shivers over his skin as sharp nails -- claws -- dig into his cheeks. It is not the cigarette-smokey voice he expects. That voice would never speak _that_ name. Nor is it the soft, sweet voice of memory. The voice that should caress that name.

He tries to raise himself up on his elbows, tries to twist in preparation for rolling over again, but a heavy weight settles along the length of his back, pressing him down.

Part of him wants to give in. Submit.

Part of him already has.

But the insistent rigid cock pushing his cheeks apart wakes a fire in him that has nothing to do with desire. His fingers claw into the sheets and he tries to buck, to throw off the weight. His body betrays him, responding only with a feeble shiver.

Sharp nails drag along the ridges of his spine, claw their way into his hair, leaving bloody trails in their wake. He tosses his head but a strong forearm presses down against the back of his neck, pinning him.

"Stop," he whimpers. How is it that he is always finding new depths of self-loathing? "No, please..."

Sharp teeth catch the curve of his ear for a moment before an impossibly long tongue delves inside. He squirms, cursing himself, and reaches a hand back to claw at the head above his.

His hand jerks to a stop before he touches even a strand of hair.

 _Tied?_

 _How?_

Someone laughs.

"Oh, Gonou," that reptilian voice purrs, and he shudders, raging helplessly. "What fun! Do try and remember. I want you... to embrace it all. All that you have done."

The sensation of a cock pushing into him, slowly, dry as bone but not nearly so smooth, is excruciating. He bites his lip to keep from screaming, but the sounds vibrate in his chest. This is not the punishment he deserves. There is no salvation, no atonement for him in this touch, this pain.

"Iisou," he hisses, with all the fury he felt, that night in the rain.

"Now you have lost everything," Iisou whispers, lips caressing his ear. "Taken away by your own hands. How does it feel, dear Gonou? To be left with only me, as I have only you."

Iisou thrusts slowly, but roughly, and the pain tears through him again, and again, each time fresh and sharp and bleeding. He wants to scream, to curse, to fight, but he can't get enough air into his lungs and what air he does breathe burns as brightly as flame.

"And you know," Iisou says slowly, satisfaction evident his tone. "There's no need to rush. I have forever, after all."

He would sooner die a thousand deaths.

Iisou knows it.

There will be no escape.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, boys, you didn't make it very far after all, did you?" Surveying the sorry scene in the clearing, the Merciful Goddess shook hir head ruefully. "What a waste."

Jiroushin remained silent, a respectful two paces behind the bodhisattva, pretending not to be affected by the shifting winds. "Lord Kanzeon," he began, pausing to cough his throat clear as the wind died. "Why are we here?"

"We can't leave them like this," se replied. "The little guy did the best he could, but it's not really proper."

Other kami might have been astonished to realize there were situations in which the bodhisattva paid more than lip service to such things as propriety. Jiroushin was not. One of the recently deceased was hir nephew, after all.

The fact that said nephew was currently lacking recognizable features due to a gunshot to the face did not seem to particularly perturb hir, either. It bothered Jiroushin a great deal, however.

"Should I summon the necessary parties to perform a proper cremation?" he asked.

"That won't be necessary," the Merciful Goddess murmured.

He turned away as Lord Kanzeon stooped to retrieve something from hir nephew's bloodied robes. The _snick_ of a lighter sounded far louder than it should have in the quiet clearing. Flames leapt up, impossibly hot and high, consuming the three bodies swiftly.

"The sutra!" Jiroushin exclaimed, turning hastily to face Kanzeon.

The bodhisattva chuckled darkly. "Wouldn't be so easy to destroy. But don't fret, Jiroushin. The little guy had the presence of mind to take it with him."

"Is that... a good thing?" he asked hesitantly.

Kanzeon snapped hir fingers. The flames died instantly, revealing a heap of ash. "It is what it is," se said. In hir other hand, se cradled hir nephew's gun. Hir fingers curled around the stock and, for a moment, se levelled it consideringly at Jiroushin.

He tried not to fidget nervously.

With a weary sigh that contradicted hir wink, the Merciful Goddess turned and laid the gun down beside the heap of ash. "Let's go," se said.

~*~*~

 _Rain._

 _Endless rain, washing away his sanity. Good riddance. He had no need of it. His was a world of blood and darkness now. Rain could not wash away his sin, his stain._

 _He should not live._

 _She was dead._

 _Lightning flashed._

Rewind.

 _"Goodbye, Gonou," she whispered._

 _He tried, one last, desperate time, to open the cell door. This time, it gave, and he stumbled into the cell._

 _His knife was poised above her abdomen. There was resolution in her eyes._

 _She would betray him?_

 _He would sooner kill her himself._

 _Knife across her throat -- four hands wrapped around the hilt, hers beneath his. Slash, stab, slash, stab, until there was no silver left on the blade. It was red, from tip to hilt, soaked and saturated as if it were drinking in the blood._

 _Someone was laughing._

 __He _was laughing, the sound spilling from the depths of his insanity. Arms encircled his waist, strong, warm, draped in rustling silk. Raising the blade to his lips, he smeared her blood across them before dropping the knife. Turning in the embrace, twisting in place, lips met lips and they shared the taste of blood. Her blood. A long, pointed tongue licked him clean with all the care of a mother cat._

 _He tilted his head back, baring his throat, and that impossibly long tongue trailed down and down and he shivered, his hands fisting in silken robes...._

No.

No.

It was a long slow crawl back to some semblance of sanity. Reality. He made the journey in slow, fitful starts and stops, focusing on the pain he knew was real.

A cold rock wall behind him. Metal shackles that bound his arms at head height, but spread so far apart that he could touch nothing. Chains too short to even allow him a grip on them.

His legs, folded beneath him. Knees pressed into the dirt. Ankles also shackled, with enough chain that he could shift his position somewhat, but had no hope of kicking anyone without dislocating something.

The agonizing burn of his muscles was a by-now familiar ache. How long had it been? How long had he been here, wherever here was? Perhaps the sun had risen, perhaps it had set, but he could only see dim, pale light at all hours. Sometimes there was a sound like rain. Sometimes it was wind in the leaves.

Sometimes... it was centipedes.

"Nihao, Gonou," Iisou said, sinking to his heels before him.

He glared. That he should be reduced to this. Glaring. There was, he supposed, the option of biting his tongue, suffocating in his own blood, but it was such a messy way to die. The way he was restrained would make it difficult, regardless. His head was inclined to tip forward, which would make it all too easy for the blood to drain out of his mouth rather than into his lungs.

He would not, would _not_ die while Iisou still lived.

"I realized two things today, yes?" Iisou continued, eyes closed, smiling. "First, that I have neglected to share with you a certain detail. I may have left you some small... hmm... shall we say, hope? Hmm?" Tilting his head, he kept his eyes closed as he ran the tip of his tongue over his lips.

Leaning forward, Iisou slid his hand behind Hakkai's neck, knotting his fingers in his short, shaggy hair. His breath tickled Hakkai's ear as his tongue darted out to lick the metal of his limiters. It was useless trying to evade the touch, but he jerked his head sideways anyway.

"And?" he growled.

The tongue slithered into his mouth, stopping his words. He endured the invasion, refusing to react.

"Dear Gonou," Iisou sighed, propping one elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. "We have been having such fun, yes? You don't really want to spoil it now, do you?"

"Hakkai," he spat. "Cho _Hakkai_."

"Hmmm... but _Hakkai_ has also killed his friends... and lover? I wonder... hmm? Was it the redhead? Or the blond? You had such fun killing them both, did you not? So why is it better to be Hakkai?"

A warm hand caressed his thigh, nails walking up his leg, down the curve of his hip, until fingers curled around his cock and tugged slowly.

 _This_ Iisou had two hands, hot with blood pushed from a beating heart. _That_ Iisou, the one that had not bled when his arm had been cut off by --

 _The feeling of chi, streaming from his hands, lancing toward --_

 _"Hak-kai!"_

 _The sound of his name, moaned softly in the darkness, as fingers wandered over his skin._

 _"...Hakkai..."_

 _\-- a hole in the centre of a familiar chest. The stench of burning flesh._

He blinked. Drew a ragged breath.

Iisou's eyes were slitted open now, watching him. The youkai's hand moved faster, coaxing a reaction he was helpless to resist.

 _A wrist, strong and muscular beneath his fingers. Twisted, tendons straining._

 _A battle for dominance. What would it have been like, under other circumstances?_

 _The bark of a gun._

He closed his eyes for a moment, watched red spray across his face. Tasted bright copper, again. Opened his eyes with an unintended gasp.

"Neither, then? How disappointing," Iisou murmured. Removing his hand, he folded his arms across his knees and smiled at him, eyes closed.

 _Not yet. Don't stop._ A faint groan escaped his lips. _Need. Hate._

"Perhaps you still prefer the wiles of women, then, hmm? That plum-haired alchemist of the prince's, perhaps?"

The words broke the hold of memory and lust, bringing him sharply back for a moment. _Yaone?_ How did he know of her?

Iisou saw the questions in his eyes, and smiled. "No? But it would have been so _fitting_ , Gonou. Do you know why?"

He shook his head, ever so slightly, bewildered.

Iisou's hand caressed his cheek, sharp claws scraping along his jawline. " _She_ was meant for Hyakugan Moah, you know."

No.

His eyes widened.

Iisou chuckled. "Oh, yes. But you see, Prince Kougaiji intervened. _Saved_ her life. And so my father's men were forced to find _someone else_. They weren't happy to have to resort to a _human_ woman, but you know, his _appetite_ rivalled our dear Golden-eyes, hmm?"

 _No._

"You lie," he hissed. But there was that deep, familiar rage coiling in his belly, darkening his vision. He jerked at his chains, uselessly, convulsively. His fingers curled, digging into the air.

"So, you see," Iisou said, raking one nail along under Hakkai's left eye. "You cannot hope to find escape even there, among your enemies."

There was blood dripping down his cheek. He snarled, straining forward, snapping his teeth towards Iisou's hand.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Iisou chided, backhanding him casually. "Do save your anger just a few minutes more please, dear Gonou." His claws walked up along the curve of Hakkai's ear. "We have," he whispered, "A _visitor_."

"Hakkai!"

Goku's voice.

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes tightly.

Iisou's claws caught on his limiters -- three bands, three claws -- and ripped them off.

The world turned black and red.

~*~*~

"Hakkai!" Goku called. His throat hurt, and his head ached like someone had driven an axe into his skull. The blood smell was strong again, here, with layers of fear and sex intertwined.

He had to find Hakkai. Hakkai could explain. Could make things right.

 _...nothing could ever be right again, no, never... dead._

"Oh, ho! Nihao, golden eyes! Found your way back from the dead, did you? No matter. Dear Gonou will be pleased to remedy that."

A growl vibrated in his throat, fury rising like a red veil to blind him. "Where?" Goku demanded, fingers curling tightly around nyoi-bou.

The fortune-teller stepped out of the shadows, sketching a mocking bow of greeting. "'Where', what, hmmm?"

"Hakkai!" Goku demanded, stepping forward. His leg buckled a little, aching fiercely, and he swayed. It looked like the same Iisou, but it _smelled_ different. More of blood and less of rot.

"Oh, ho!" Iisou laughed behind his sleeves. "He is quite gone, you see. No point in searching for _him_ , truly."

Goku shook his head. His limiter groaned, the earth rolling across his skull, whispering destruction. He staggered forward two steps. "You killed them."

Iisou tilted his head to one side, his mouth making a moue of surprise. "No, no, dear Golden-eyes. I was but the harbinger of their destruction, not the instrument."

"What?" Pretty words. Words Hakkai might use. Meaningless through the haze of anger. Another step closer.

Mahjongg counters hissed through the air, shower after shower of them. He couldn't dodge quickly enough, couldn't avoid all of them, and they stabbed like the thinnest knives, into his arms and legs. Grunting in pain, he fell to one knee.

Behind Iisou, there was a sound of shaking, tearing, chains rattling. And then there was a scream, the likes of which he'd never heard.

"Cho Gonou killed them," Iisou said, moving so quickly he seemed to vanish from the mouth of the cave.

A youkai stood outlined against the darkness for a moment and, when _he_ moved, it made Iisou's speed seem a tortoise's slow crawl. Goku blinked, and the youkai stood before him, claws poised to strike. His naked body was covered in a pattern of twisting vines. Broken chains dangled from his wrists; wrists that were slick with blood beneath tight metal bands.

 _...the weight of chains, dragging at him... like him... not like him..._

For a single heartbeat, he was helpless before the weight of madness in those eyes, those familiar _green_ eyes.

 _...let's end this..._

The youkai struck suddenly -- not with his upraised hand but unexpectedly with the other -- and it was all Goku could do to block the attack and desperately evade. Mahjongg counters rained down again, behind him this time, blocking one path. He twisted sideways, as sharp claws sliced through his sleeve. Blood ran down his arm.

"Hakkai!"

Not even a flicker of recognition.

He backtracked, tried to leap out of the way, and fell to the earth with a shriek of pain as the youkai -- _not Hakkai... couldn't be... please no..._ \-- slashed into the flesh of his not fully healed leg. Claws ground against bone. Bone shattered.

 _A sound like blood._

 _The taste of an avalanche._

 _The scent of going blind, and awakening._

He met the youkai's eyes again as he sprawled backwards to the ground, and the youkai paused. Reaching up, Goku held the youkai's eyes as he tugged his limiter off and tossed it aside.

The youkai smiled.

~*~*~

Folding his hands in his sleeves, Chin Iisou balanced lightly on a low tree branch and watched in delight as the golden-eyed boy removed his limiter. The change shuddered over him and, though it would have been a perfect moment to strike, neither he nor Gonou did. Gonou was waiting, _smiling._ Ah, yes, this would be a good fight. The perfect ending.

But when Golden-eyes rose to his feet, he ignored Gonou, turning to scent the clearing. It took him but a moment to locate the branch on which Iisou perched, but when he did, he bared his teeth in a feral grin.

Golden-eyes vanished, moving with impossible speed, but Iisou was already moving as well, and so was Gonou. Two blurs -- one golden, one green -- rushing toward him. He flung a handful of mahjongg counters, leaping from branch to ground to branch again. Golden-eyes paused to bat them away, and in that moment, Gonou struck from behind.

Protecting him. It was touching really. Iisou sighed softly as he settled to watch.

The two youkai turned on each other. Their speed was nearly equal, or would have been if Golden-eyes had not been wounded. But as much as he seemed to ignore his shattered leg and the growing number of wounds on his body, they were slowing him down, inexorably. He blocked Gonou's attacks, but with difficulty, his movement as he leapt and dodged less than graceful. Less than fluid.

Gonou was beauty to behold, so slender, so agile. Like a willow turned knife, bending in the wind. And yet relentless, anticipating Golden-eyes' moves, cutting him off time and again as he turned to escape. Or no, not escape. Golden-eyes was still trying to attack _him_ rather than Gonou.

How entertaining! Golden-eyes was more fun to play with than he'd thought.

They were going to head off into the forest if they weren't careful. _Tsk-ing_ softly, Iisou moved closer, tossing a handful of mahjongg counters as he did. Golden-eyes stopped suddenly, his attention suddenly and sharply focusing onto Iisou. He leapt -- or tried to -- but Gonou was too close and would not let him go.

There was a wet sound of ripping and a noisy crackling as Gonou tore Golden-eyes' right arm free of his body.

Iisou hid his mouth behind his sleeves and laughed softly. It was delightful, truly, that Gonou would go to such lengths to protect him. And soon, soon he would have Gonou all to himself again. Properly. He licked his lips, anticipation warming him.

Golden-eyes spun in place and launched himself at Gonou, howling furiously. Gonou blocked his one-handed attack with crossed arms, driving him back easily. A swift punch to Golden-eyes' stomach sent him flying across the clearing to crash into a slender tree trunk. It cracked and toppled slowly as he slid to the ground.

Gonou approached slowly, warily, but Golden-eyes only lay there, gasping for breath. His narrowed eyes watched Gonou, and he tensed for a strike that his ravaged body simply would not make.

Time to intercede again.

Dropping lightly to the ground, Iisou moved to Gonou's left, far enough away that neither youkai could reach him. Golden-eyes looked up, slowly, tracking him. Iisou laughed.

"Defeated already, are we, hmm?" he chided. "What a pity. A very poor revenge for your friends, dear Golden-eyes."

Golden-eyes snarled and pushed himself to his feet. But when he moved to attack, it was without the necessary speed.

And Gonou was there to stop him.

~*~*~

There was only one thought in his mind. It was everything -- sight, taste, touch, sound, scent. All-consuming.

 _Death._

The youkai he fought, and the one that hid, neither was a match for him. Neither _loved/needed/hated/desired_ death the way he did. He was death made flesh, and death would consume him.

But only _after_...

 _His_ kill. He would not let the other have it.

He fought in silence, ignoring his opponent's shrieks and growls and screams. In the darkness of his mind, he thought the other should have been _laughing_ , and that would have been fitting, but there was no laughter in those golden eyes as he tore limb from limb.

 _Kill me..._

Not fast enough. Not strong enough. Already wounded. Halfway broken. A disappointing opponent, really.

A slash, a strike. Claws ripping through a tender throat. A wet, burbling, noise.

Silence.

...

Now there was laughter, and a strange sound that he eventually recognized as applause.

His audience.

 _loveneedhatedesire. Death._

He turned, slowly, hands falling empty at his sides. This one who walked toward him, so confident, so _pale_ \-- he would paint him with blood.

The other paused by the remains of his opponent, stooped to remove something from the remains of shredded clothing, and tucked a cylindrical thing into his sleeve. Then the other continued toward him, stopping more than close enough.

"Oh, well _done,_ Gonou," that one whispered.

The words were empty, meaningless. He waited, coiled and tense. Eager.

A pale face tilted up to his. Pale hands reached for him.

He lashed out, claws slicing diagonally across a torso shrouded in silk. Shredding cloth, digging deeper, deeper, ripping away flesh, claws buried in the heat of vital organs.

Wine-hazel eyes opened, wide, wide. Disbelief written large as fear crawled in, dogged by pain. "Gonou...."

A body, sliding down and down, hands grasping feebly at his blood-slick arms. His lips curled, baring teeth in a feral smile. Wrapping a long tail of hair around his hand, he dragged the body to the cave and left it there.

 _Death._

Yes.

Turning away, he sat beneath a tree that had been broken in the violence of the fight. Closing his eyes, he watched faces dance across his memory. Colours, bright and sharp. Scents, strong and familiar. Tastes... tears.

His claws found the rubbery edge of a scar and dug in. Ripped open the old wound that had never healed. Guts spilled slippery and wet into his lap, onto the ground.

There was no one to save him, this time.

 _Death._

He welcomed it. Embraced the darkness.

Willed his life away, as the blood soaked the tree roots.

He never heard the body's last laugh.


	4. Epilogue

Kougaiji already knew what Nii Jianyi's reports and spies confirmed: something was dreadfully, horribly _wrong_ with the Sanzo-ikkou.

The huge shifts in _youryouki_ had been unmistakable to the prince, even from such a distance as lay between Hotou Castle and the ikkou. Even more disturbing, however, was the feeling of threads twisting and _snapping_. So Nii's news, delivered with entirely too much enthusiasm, failed to surprise him.

"Dead?" Dokugakuji echoed dumbly. "How?"

A reasonable question, given that the ikkou had been most definitely alive when they'd parted ways not long ago. Kougaiji merely nodded once and turned away from the doctor.

"All of them?" Yaone whispered, barely moving her hands away from her mouth.

Nii smirked around his cigarette. "It seems Cho Hakkai- _dono_ took great delight in destroying his companions."

"No!" Yaone gasped, as Doku snapped, "How!?"

"Hmm..." Nii said, holding up his ever-present bunny doll as if to confer with it. "How indeed? Ah, you see, the data suggests Chin Iisou was involved. Mm-hmm. But he wasn't the one who killed them."

"Rumour," Kougaiji interrupted. "You have no proof."

Nii's glasses glinted as he tilted his head back to study the stone ceiling. "Oh? No proof, hmm?" he murmured to himself. "I see. Well. Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. Perhaps the prince would prefer to check for himself, hmm? Because, of course, we must have _proof_." Laughing softly to himself, or perhaps to the bunny doll, he ambled back down the hallway.

"Let's go," Kougaiji said shortly, turning to head in the opposite direction. "Yaone, stay here with Lirin."

She grasped his arm, pulling him to a stop. "Kougaiji-sama," she began, pleading with voice and eyes.

He shook his head, laying one hand gently over hers. "Please, Yaone. I don't think... you want to see the mess he's made." She was strong enough to face it, he knew that beyond question, but there was nothing to be gained from her confronting it. There was no reason to make her endure it. And besides that, the last thing he wanted was for Lirin to follow them.

"Kou?" Doku said questioningly, just behind him.

He bowed his head for a moment before sighing and removing Yaone's hand from his arm. "Chin Iisou was the son of Hyakugan Maoh," he said, reluctantly.

Yaone gasped, her hands flying to her mouth again, but the pleading in her eyes changed to hardened resolve, saying without words that she could face this but chose not to. Letting her hands fall to her sides, she bowed, acknowledging the order wordlessly.

Kougaiji started walking and Doku quickly fell into step beside him. This time, Yaone didn't protest.

"I thought the entire clan was wiped out," Doku muttered.

"Didn't everyone?" Kougaiji said, sighing. "Are you certain you wish to accompany me?"

Doku rolled his shoulders in an uneasy shrug. "Why, Kou? What do you know that we don't?"

He cast a sidelong glance at his swordsman. "Your brother...?" _That_ particular revelation had surprised him greatly. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of it. There was obviously much more to the story than Doku had let on, but it was equally obvious that he did care about the redheaded young man. He wished, for Doku's sake, that they'd reconnected under better circumstances.

"Half--" Doku began to protest.

"Does it really matter?"

"No, I guess not," Doku answered slowly, as they started up the stairs to the flying dragons' tower. "But somebody ought to... y'know.... I can't just... leave him like that. If it's true...."

Kougaiji nodded shortly. "I know."

~*~*~

Despite his expectations, even Kougaiji was unprepared for the scene of carnage and destruction they found.

Dismembered remains were strewn around a small clearing before one of a network of caves that riddled the base of the mountain. The reek of blood was overpowering. The earth was stained dark with it in several places, painted with splattered trails in others. Circling around upwind, they crept closer, trying to discern identity from the scattered remnants of clothing and limbs.

Something metallic crunched under Doku's boot, and he crouched to examine it. "Goku's limiter..." he said quietly. His eyes widened as he turned to survey the clearing again. "But he didn't..."

"Kou... gai... ji..."

They both startled, moving to stand back to back as they searched for a source for the voice.

"There," Doku said, pointing to where pale silk fluttered at the mouth of the cave. They moved forward together, cautiously.

The figure leaning against the cave wall was barely recognizable, but for his hair, and the eyes he slitted open to greet them. His robes were tattered and blood-soaked, and the tiny corner of pale cream that had caught Doku's eye was the only clean spot remaining.

"Iisou," Kougaiji hissed, crouching beside him. "You did this?"

Chin Iisou's eyes slid closed again, and a burbling, wet laugh escaped him. "Oh, ho... ho.... No..." he coughed. "My dear Gonou..."

Kougaiji and Doku shared a look of confusion. "Who?" Doku mouthed. Kougaiji shook his head helplessly.

Doku frowned, turning to search the clearing again. "The youkai?" he asked incredulously, spotting an unfamiliar form at the base of a shattered tree.

Iisou sighed, and coughed up blood. "We had such fun, yes? But now... all is lost. Again."

The centipede prince was hanging on to life by the barest of threads, Kougaiji knew without bothering to check the extent of his injuries. Only some stubborn refusal of death was keeping him alive. Rising to his feet, Kougaiji glared down in disgust. They'd get no sense out of him, that was certain.

One clawed hand rose suddenly and locked around his ankle. The other lay hidden in a shredded length of sleeve.

"So... good of you... to come, _Prince_ Kou-gai... ji..." Iisou said. "Won't you... grant a dying youkai's last... request?" Overcome by a fit of coughing, Iisou pitched forward, wrapping both arms over his abdomen.

Something fell free of his sleeve and rolled to a stop against Kougaiji's boot. Even blood-stained, its shape was unmistakeable.

"A gift," Iisou gasped, his eyes snapping completely open for a moment and locking onto Kougaiji's. "If you grant..."

With an annoyed grunt, Kougaiji stooped to pick up the Maten Sutra. It was true, then. Genjyo Sanzo was dead. "What is it you want, centipede?"

Iisou shook his head. "Ah, so cruel," he whispered. "Let us... be together... in death."

"Kou!" Doku called, beckoning him over to the tree.

Iisou's eyes had fallen closed, and the wet sound of his breathing slowed to intermittent gasps. Shaking his head in disgust, Kougaiji walked away.

Doku was crouched by the still remains of a youkai he'd never seen before. The stranger's body was naked, save for blood and dirt and broken chains around his wrists and ankles. He was covered in a twisting pattern of vines that wove around his torso and limbs. He might have been very attractive when alive, Kougaiji thought absently, if not for the gaping wound in his abdomen that had the look of a reopened scar. There were still clumps of flesh caught on his claws, and his hands were caked in dried blood.

"I don't recognize him," Kougaiji said, standing at Doku's shoulder. "Do you?"

"No, but... it looks like he's the one that tore Goku to pieces." Doku shook his head, disbelief written large on his open features. "And the pattern, don't you think it's kind of odd?"

A pattern of vines against pale skin. A matted mess of chocolate brown hair, long enough to brush down over his eyes when his chin was lowered.

Kougaiji shivered slightly. "What colour are his eyes?" he asked, consumed by a morbid fascination.

Doku pried open an eyelid. A lifeless eye, no longer emerald, but a dull forest green, stared blankly. "Hakkai?" he whispered.

"He did wear limiters," Kougaiji pointed out slowly.

Tipping the youkai's head to one side, Doku reached out and almost touched the ragged edges of a pointed ear. There were three jagged tears where limiters had been ripped off by clawed fingers.

They were both silent for a moment, awed by the evidence of power kept hidden.

"We should..." Doku began hesitantly.

"Even though he might have killed the others?"

Doku sighed and bowed his head. "We'll never know, will we? It's not like Iisou's gonna tell us anything useful." His expression was bleak when he glanced up at Kougaiji again. "Would you rather risk being haunted by his shade?"

Kougaiji sighed. "Bring him to the cave, then. And... Goku..."

"I'll deal with it."

Iisou was either unconcious or dead by the time they had arranged the remains of the other two beside him. Kougaiji didn't care to check. Tucking the sutra into an inside pocket of his jacket, he summoned a lesser fire demon to cremate the three of them.

When the flames died away and there was only ash and soot left on the cave floor, they stood silently for a moment, wishing their honourable opponents' souls a peaceful journey. The wind whispered through the trees behind them, but the forest was otherwise deathly silent.

"Gojyo," Doku said finally.

Kougaiji nodded.

~*~*~

They searched the woods for hours, but it was only as the sun was setting that they finally stumbled upon another clearing marked with obvious signs of battle. Only a heap of ash remained, and a small metal object beside it.

Sanzo's gun.

Kougaiji picked it up, because it seemed wrong to leave it there.

"Guess we'll never know," Dokugakuji murmured again.

In silence, they turned for home.


End file.
